1 Bitter, 2 Sweet
by Kelly Chambliss
Summary: This story begins as eleven-year-old Severus Snape goes to Hogwarts. It features Severus, Minerva, Lily, Eileen, a couple of Malfoys, various Hogwarts staff (human and elf), portraits, and students. Plus a sentient book. What does one do with a sentient book? Why, turn it into a diary, of course.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**1\. Bitter, 2. Sweet**

 **By Kelly Chambliss**

\- - - / / / - - -

 **Prologue**

Not until the last day of August can Eileen bring herself to pack her son's meagre belongings into her old school trunk and prepare to send him off to his first year at Hogwarts.

Of course she's known this day was coming - - and is almost glad of it, for Severus's sake - but knowledge isn't the same as acceptance. Tobias is proof of that: twelve years ago her husband found out she was a witch, and he's been angry ever since.

But the world has never waited for Eileen Prince Snape's acceptance, not of her boy's departure or anything else, and so, when she can put off the moment no longer, she Levitates her trunk out of the attic and into Severus's room.

It's plain, this room, partly because there's no money for fripperies, partly because Severus wants it this way. When he got big enough to reach them, he took down the coloured magazine pictures that she had used to brighten the walls. She never has to nag him to tidy up; the boy is so orderly it's almost unnatural.

A small pile of freshly-laundered clothes sits on the bed. She's managed to afford two slightly-used school robes for Severus, one a bit big so he can grow into it. A touch here and there with her wand has made them both look nearly good as new; he won't be shamed by them. His worn socks and vests and pants, though. . .she frowns as she lays them in the trunk. Well, at least no one but the house elves will see those.

The school books go in next. They're hers, from her own Hogwarts years. She's glad she kept them: even used copies at the bookstore turned out to be shockingly dear, beyond her purse, and Severus must have guessed as much. Bookworm though he is, he didn't raise any fuss when she told him that they wouldn't be buying anything at Flourish and Blotts.

But his wand. . .that is Severus's own, brand-new. To pay for it, she and Tobias will be making do with less this winter, but no matter. A good wand is not an extravagance: no wizard has a chance in the wizarding world without one, and Eileen is determined to give her son as much of a chance as she can, even though it won't be enough.

She pauses to remember Severus's face as they stood in Ollivander's shop, green sparks dancing out of the smooth hawthorn wand that the old man had put in the boy's hand. His eyes were alight, shining; he was almost smiling.

Even with cauldron and scales added, the trunk is barely half-full when Eileen puts in the last of Severus's few shirts and pairs of trousers. It's no good wishing she could give him more, though. He has what he has, and that's all there is to it.

Yet she's not quite done. Severus will see that his old mam still has a few tricks up her sleeve. Inside the cauldron, she tucks two more of her prized possessions: a woollen scarf striped in Slytherin green and silver, and her silk house tie. Of course, there's no guarantee that the strange old Sorting Hat will put her boy into Slytherin, though she hopes it will. But it doesn't, well. . .that's a lesson Severus needs to learn, the sooner the better: there are no guarantees in life, and it's best not to count on anything.

Finally, only one task remains to be done. From her bottom bureau drawer Eileen retrieves a ratty shoe box. Inside is an old cookery book, its pages yellowed and stained. This book she magicks down to the very bottom of Severus's trunk.

A whispered charm, a last swish of her wand, and the trunk stands ready.

Tomorrow, Eileen will take it and her boy to King's Cross and send them out of her life.


	2. Chapter 2: Student, Part 1

**Part 1.1 - Snape's First Year, Student - 1971-72**

This book is the property of

Severus Tobias Prince Snape.

A SLYTHERIN.

Do not read without the personal permission of

SEVERUS SNAPE, Slytherin.

Keep out. This means YOU.

 **2 September 1971**

1\. Yesterday Lily and I came on the train to Hogwarts and it's just like I told her it would be, better than any place else.

But she's not in Slytherin.

I am. It's the best house. Mum knew I would be here, she gave me a Slytherin house tie.

In the common room after the feast, Lucius, he's the prefect, he said - -

\- -First years, Welcome to Slytherin. It's an honour to be in this great house, and if you are loyal to Slytherin, you will find that Slytherin is loyal to you. No matter what you become in life you will always be a Slytherin. You belong here.

These are good things to know.

Lily is in Gryffindor, the worst. Those stupid gits from the train are in there too. I will try to look out for her.

2\. Now I will say something about this book I am writing in.

It was in my trunk. _Magical Meals on a Budget_ , it was called, and I thought Mum put it in by mistake.

But when I opened it, it turned into a different book, just a plain smooth black cover with ridges on the spine. I think it is leather. On the bottom front, there is a small silver snake. The book is very old, you can smell it.

And the pages are all blank.

But sometimes when you touch one, words show up. I touched the first page and got a letter from Mum. It said - -

\- -Severus this magic book has belonged in the Prince family for over two hundred years. My grandfather gave it to me and now I give it to you. Tell it whatever you want, your secrets will be safe. The book will protect you and the Princes will help you. You will need all the help you can get in this world, it is not a nice place. Be smart.

Your loving mother, Eileen Prince Snape.

That's what it said. Or close. I can't remember the exact words because as soon as I read them, they disappeared and the page was blank again.

But "your loving mother." It said that.

3\. Writing down secrets is stupid, even in a magic book. If it's written down it's not a secret anymore.

 **8 September 1971**

1\. What I write in this book does not disappear. I found this out.

Evidence: The things I wrote the other day are still here.

2\. I have touched all the pages but none of them say anything else.

3\. I tried to write on the first page where Mum's letter was, but it's like the quill won't work or something. No ink comes out.

Maybe this is the page where the Princes will write to me.

Or maybe Mum's letter will come back some day. I will leave the page alone just in case.

4\. I will use this book to make a record of Hogwarts. It is important to keep track of things.

5\. I will put numbers next to each new or important thing.

6\. I have been to some classes. Here is what I think of them so far.

A. Charms: The Charms teacher Professor Flitwick is a dwarf like I saw at the fair when I went with Granny Snape. He is a Ravenclaw. He seems nice but I would not count on it. It could be an act.

When I made my feather fly, he said - - Good lad. Everyone from our dorm was able to Levitate their feathers except Avery. He's an idiot. Makes Slytherin look bad.

Verdict: Charms does not seem like it will be hard. I looked ahead in the book, and some of the stuff will be useful.

(Question: Are all dwarfs magic? It would make sense.)

B. Herbology: When you first go into the greenhouse, it looks like mess and chaos, but it is actually quite organized. Professor Sprout is also messy, but when she told us what to do, she was very organized too.

I think maybe a lot of Hufflepuffs are like this - - they make you think they are silly when they are really sharp. They will need to be watched.

We repotted fanged geraniums. I took one and put it in my bag, it is too young to bite yet. I thought it might be good to have, because you never know.

Verdict: I don't much like mucking about in dirt, but I can see that there are things worth knowing in Herbology.

C. Transfiguration: First bad thing: We have Transfiguration with the Gryffindors.

Second bad thing: The Slytherin second years said to watch out for Professor McGonagall, she is head of Gryffindor and she is mean and hates Slytherins. She definitely looks mean, all pointy and stern and like she's frowning even when she isn't.

She said Transfiguration is "complex and difficult magic" but I think that is only true for careless people, not everyone. But most people are stupid and careless, so probably it comes to the same thing. I am not. Lily is not. Lucius is not. But just about everyone else is.

Evidence: We were supposed to turn matchsticks into needles. Bunch Parkinson said this was silly, because how often are we ever going to need needles, and they are for girls to use anyway.

Stupid. He honestly couldn't see that matchsticks and needles are just examples, even though McG told us this. She said it's not _about_ matchsticks and needles, it's about seeing how two things are alike and different and figuring out how to change a little bit and then a little bit more until you shift the first thing into the second thing but keep the basic similar things the same, like them being long and thin, but what changes is what you use them for.

By the end of the lesson I could see this. It's easy to do if you are careful and if you have a plan and follow your plan step by step and see each change in your head first. It's a system. Systems are important.

But to repeat: most people are too stupid and careless to make this work. On the first day, only four of us made the matchstick into a needle, me and Biddy Goforth and those dipwads James Potter and Sirius Black. I'm glad two of us are in Slytherin.

I finished first. Professor McGonagall looked at my needle and then she looked at me with her head turned a little sideways, like Mum does when she is sizing up the cabbages in the shop to get the biggest one. Then the professor waved her wand over me and the words "Snape, Severus" appeared in the air in green letters.

She said - - Five points to Slytherin, Mr Severus Snape.

So she was not mean to me this time but I do not trust her. She is a Gryffindor.

Verdict: Transfiguration makes sense.

D. Potions: Professor Slughorn is the head of Slytherin and the Potions professor. He is rather fat and has a large moustache. He patted me on the back and said well well welcome my boy. He asked how Selwyn's father was doing, and Nott's, but he did not ask about Mum. I wonder if he remembers her?

We learnt how to light cauldrons and properly cut ingredients. Then he showed us how to make "inert bases." These are different solids and liquids that are neutral, that means they just help keep "active" potions ingredients stable. There are inert gasses, too, but we will not do those until third year.

Verdict: Open. Not very interesting yet but I looked through the book, and there is potential.

E. Defense Against the Dark Arts: This is called DADA for short.

The teacher is Professor Devlin. He is old and very thin. Selwyn's brother told us that this is Professor Devlin's first year at Hogwarts. I wonder why he is starting a new job when he is probably old enough to retire.

But he is interesting. He said - - Many people will tell you that dark arts are evil but they are wrong. All magic can be used for good or ill, you simply need to learn which is which. I will teach you.

Verdict: This class might be the most useful of all.

 **10 October 1971**

1\. **People at Hogwarts**

People here I like so far: Lily. Professor Flitwick. Professor Devlin. Lucius Malfoy. Mulciber is not too bad.

People I don't care about so far: If I wrote their names it would take this whole book.

People I hate so far: James Pooper. Sirius Blockhead. Their thug friends. Every Gryffindor.* (*Exception = Lily.)

People who are stupid: Bertha Jorkins. Avery. Just about everyone, really.

People who are clever: Professor McGonagall. Professor Flitwick. Professor Devlin. Lily. Lucius. Some Ravenclaws (not all, even though they would have you think so).

2\. **Potions** \- - This class has got more interesting. We made shrinking solution and other things.

Fact: What is written in the potions textbook is not always right.

Evidence: When we had to make stinging solution, the book said used dried fanged geranium leaves, but there weren't enough dried ones in the store cupboard. So I remembered the plant* in my bag and picked some leaves, and the fresh ones were better. My potion was the stingy-est.

Slughorn said, Excellent work, Snape. Keep this up and you will be as good as Selwyn.

I am already much better than Selwyn. But he is a pureblood and I am not.

But I will become so good at Potions that Slughorn will have to see how smart and worthwhile half-bloods are.

3\. *Note - - I forgot my fanged geranium until today. It's a good thing I was careful when I reached in my bag, because I think the flower is ready to bite now. Wouldn't it be interesting if it somehow ended up in the Pooper's satchel? When he sticks his hand in - - surprise! - - Mulciber and I can laugh like the Gryffinwanks did last week when Pooper put that ice charm on the floor and I slipped. Lily laughed too, but she was trying not to.

 **21 November 1971**

1\. Useful things I learnt in History of Magic:

A. Binns is boring. History of Magic is not.

B. A syllogism is a tool of logic.

C. Syllogism:

Major Premise: All Gryffindors* are wankers.

Minor Premise: James Pooper and Sirius Blackhead are Gryffindors.

Conclusion: Therefore, Pooper and Blackhead are wankers.

(*Note - - except Lily)

D. Syllogism 2

Major P: Half-bloods can make excellent Slytherins. (Evidence: Phyllida Spore. A Slytherin. Also a half-blood [source: _Hogwarts: A History_ ]. Famous author of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ )

Minor P: I am a half-blood.

Conclusion: Therefore, I make an excellent Slytherin.

 **25 November 1971**

1\. Why I like the library:

A. It is quiet and smells like old paper and old magic.

B. The Thugs do not bother me here. Actual studying is beneath them (or in Pettigrew's case, beyond him).

C. I like the books.

D. In the old books there are facts and ideas that no one today knows. When I read them, I'm the only one who knows. (And maybe Madam Pince.) This is useful. Case in point (see below)

2\. I found a very old book called _Plants and Potions_. I looked up a plant I saw in Greenhouse Three, it is in Professor Sprout's private cupboard. It has white flowers and black roots. I didn't know what it was, but now I do. It is called moly and it is very magical. In a potion, it can protect you from harmful spells and enchantments - - dark ones, of course, and maybe even the stupid prank hexes that the Gryffinwanks use.

The book said moly is most effective if plucked in a full moon. I will find a way to get some.

 **1 December 1971**

1\. Important Fact: Mum was right about this book. It will keep your secrets even when you don't think you are writing secrets.

Here is what happened.

I was leaving Transfiguration when Blackhead used a hex to make my bag burst open. This book fell out and Pooper grabbed it and yelled - - What's this Snivellus? Your super secret diary? Do you pour your ickle heart out to it? Let's see.

I lunged for it but Pettigrew was holding my robe. By the time I used a stinging hex on his fingers, Pooper was opening the book and flipping through it. But then he threw it back at me. "Just stupid potions notes and history of magic," he said. "Looks like the stupid berk writes down every word old Binns says."

Blackhead made a grab for my book again anyway and I pointed my wand but then out of nowhere McGonagall showed up and took ten points from Slytherin for magic in the corridors. Bloody typical.

When I got back to the dormitory and opened the book, it wasn't potions or history notes at all. It was just the stuff I wrote since I got to Hogwarts.

So the book did protect me.


	3. Chapter 3: Student, Part 2

**Part 1.2 - Snape's First Year, Student - 1971-72**

 **\- - - / / / - - -**

 **2 December 1971**

1\. When I opened the book this morning there was a new note on the blank first page. It was in old fashion handwriting, I could hardly read it. It said - -

 _The owner of this magic book concealment must learn,_

 _Since he must always be of it a Guardian most stern._

I don't know if I have all the words just right but it was something like that. Not like how we talk today anyway. Then it disappeared.

I thought about this, and I think it means that I should find a concealment spell for this book. It will be a charm or possibly a transfiguration. I will look for one.

 **25 December 1971**

1\. I have not been writing here because I have not found the right concealment spell yet. So I just keep the book in my trunk.

2\. I am making an exception today because no one will see me writing. It is Christmas. I am staying at Hogwarts. It is free to ride the Hogwarts Express when school starts and ends but if you want to ride it for breaks, there is a charge. Mum sent an owl and said maybe next year.

3\. I do not mind staying here.

4\. About twenty students stayed. We had Christmas dinner in the great hall with three tables - - six or seven students and two teachers at each table. I was the only Slytherin student. I didn't really know any of the others. Lily went home.

For teachers, my table had Professor Slughorn and Professor Devlin.

5\. The teachers did most of the talking and the rest of us just sat there. It was weird.

6\. Professor Slughorn was very jolly, he was drinking a lot of mead and getting red in the face like Da does, only not yelling. He said to Professor Devlin - - I trust my Slytherin, young Mr Snape, is doing well in your class, Devlin old chap. He's a bright lad that one. A natural potioneer.

7\. The food was prime. I had two slices of Christmas pudding with cream on after the fire went out.

8\. I spent the rest of the day in the Slytherin common room. No one else is here. There were games and things in the great hall in the afternoon, but I did not go.

9\. The supper just appeared by itself on the common room table. Ham sandwiches and chocolate cake.

10\. I am a natural potioneer.

 **9 January 1972**

1\. I am making another exception with this book because it is my birthday, I am 12.

2\. We had a cake in the Slytherin common room and everyone clapped. Even Lucius and the other seventh years ate a piece.

3\. Mum sent an owl with a card and a book, _Young Wizard's Handbook_. I think she saw me look at it in Flourish and Blotts last summer. I hope it will have useful things in it. We will see.

4\. No one else in the school knows it is my birthday. Slytherins keep those things to ourselves. It's no one else's business. Lily knows and she whispered happy birthday at breakfast, but she would not let the Thugs know.

5\. Lily always said she would not like having a birthday so close to Christmas because all your presents are packed so close together and people aren't ready for a birthday party right after all the Christmas parties. But I don't care. I do not want parties.

6\. I do not see Lily much any more.

 **13 January 1971**

1. _The Young Wizard's Handbook_ has a spell that I thought I could use to conceal this book. I tried it here in the dormitory but it did not really work. I wanted to make the cover look like it did when I first got it, like _Magical Meals on a Budget_ , but I could only get it to shimmer and have a few letters on it.

2\. I think the problem is that the dormitory is not very light, and the book said the spell works best in light. This seems backwards, because with a concealment spell, you don't want the thing to be seen clearly, you want to conceal it. That is the point. So you think you would want to do the spell in the dark.

But the more I thought about it, it makes sense. It's like a transfiguration. You need a system to move step by step from one thing to another thing. From what it was to what it will be. From what it is now, in full light and visible, to something covered up and not visible at all. So that's why you start the spell in the light.

It's not a real transfiguration, because the book will still be itself. It won't be really changing into something else. It will just _look_ like something else. But the principle is the same.

So I tried to do the spell in an empty classroom with windows. I stood right in the sun.

3\. When I was saying the spell, Yaxley came in. He is a fifth year. He asked what I was doing. I did not tell him about this book but I said I was trying to figure out how to make something look like something else.

He laughed and said - - found yourself a dirty magazine have you? Well it's never too early to start I guess. There are lots of good spells to make a book or paper look like a different one. It's a good Slytherin sort of thing to know.

And he taught me two different spells, they are much better than the one in _Young Wizard's Handbook._

Before he left he said to me - - Snape, I've been watching you. You are smart.

I did not say anything, I did not know what he wanted.

He went on - - You get a very bad deal from those Gryffindors and the teachers don't do anything to stop it.

I know, I said.

He said - - You see what we Slytherins have to put up with. Even Dumbledore is against us, and the Ministry too. But there will be a new day coming. We will make things right.

I said - - what do you mean?

He said - - you wait and see. But our kind will be in charge some day, that's all you need to know now.

I said - - I am a half-blood.

Because that matters.

But he said - - Even so. We will need smart people, even half-bloods. Just keep your eyes open for us. And keep your mouth shut.

I will.

3\. Fact: When I touch this book, I see it as it really looks, with its black leather cover and the silver snake. But now when someone else sees it or touches it, it looks like _Hogwarts: A History_. Even to Slytherins.

4\. Evidence: I put the book on the common room table while I was writing an essay and Nott said - - what are you reading this for? Who cares about this rubbish?

Buckler said - - Snape does. He's a bloody boring swot.

He picked up the book and looked through it and didn't say anything, so clearly it looks like _Hogwarts: A History_ inside too.

I said - - You couldn't be a swot if you wanted to, Buckler. You have to be able to read first.

Buckler is an idiot. If a new Slytherin day does come, they'll have to figure out what do to with all the stupid ones.

 **29 February 1972**

1\. Today is Leap Day, it is very magical AND it is a full moon.

2\. Very early this morning I got up to sneak out to Greenhouse Three. The full moon was at its peak at 0411 hours and 54 seconds. I wanted to pick a moly flower to see if that old book was right and it will make a powerful protection potion.

Mission accomplished. I have the flower and no one saw me.

3\. But I saw someone. Two someones. When I was leaving the greenhouse I saw a shadow, and it was Blackhead and Pooper skulking along the edge of the wall by the back garden. I hid myself and I heard Blackhead say - hurry up! He'll already be in the shrieking shack and we still have to figure out that tree.

Pooper said - - I can make it work, I know I can.

Bragging. Typical.

Then they ran off, I lost sight of them behind that whomping tree.

Very interesting. Very.

4\. I have something on them now. This is always a good thing.

5\. I will try to find out more.

 **2 March 1972**

1\. I went to the potions lab last night to start to brew the protection potion with moly. I found instructions in that old book in the library.

2\. It is very complicated but everything has worked so far. It will take two weeks to finish.

 **15 March 1972**

They have spoilt it. Pooper and Blackhead and their toady Pettigrew. They followed me when I went to check the potion and Pooper said - - what are you up to, Snivellus and then he saw my cauldron and he deliberately ran into me and knocked me into the cauldron and it fell over and he laughed and said oops, oops. Look what you made me do.

The potion is ruined.

It was almost done and now it is ruined.

I will pay them back.

 **16 March 1972**

1\. Tonight when I opened this book there was a new message. It said - - _Moste Potente Potions_ is a book in the Restricted Section of the library.

2\. I went to ask Professor Devlin for a permission slip to get into the Restricted Section. He said - You like to read, Mr Snape?

I said yes.

He said - - Good. You'll gain knowledge that way, and knowledge is power. Can you handle power, Mr Snape?

I said - - I don't know.

He said - - You must control it and not let it control you. Be careful. Be cautious. Power will be what you make of it.

I said - - like dark magic?

He said - - just like dark magic.

3\. I will go to the library tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4: Student, Part 3

**Part 1.3 - Snape's First Year, Student - 1971-72**

 **\- - - / / / - - -**

 **17 March 1972**

1\. I have the book. _Moste Potente Potions_.

2\. It is prime. There is no end of useful instructions in it. Some people would say that a lot of these potions are dark, but I don't. It depends on what you use them for.

3\. There is a recipe for an even better protection potion than the one with moly. That must be why the Princes told me to get the book. I will start looking for the ingredients.

4\. The magic is strong in the Restricted Section. I could feel it. The books were rustling and kind of whispering. I whispered back - - show me how to create spells. And a book flew right off the shelf and came over to me.

5\. It is called _Spell Theory_. It is small. I put it inside iMoste Potente Potions/i and Madam Pince didn't even see it when I left.

 **24 March 1972**

1\. They talk about me. The teachers.

2\. Evidence: I heard them. In the library.

3\. Details: I was sitting in the back corner near the Restricted Section. I was the only person in there. Everyone else was skiving off because the Easter break starts soon and they are stupid enough to believe that if something doesn't have to be done until after break, they don't need to think about it right now.

Professor McGonagall came in. She said - - Quiet night, Irma?

Madam Pince said - - Very.

McGonagall said - - I was hoping that at least a few of the N.E.W.T. students might be trying to get a head start on their major project, but I suppose that's too much to expect, this close to the holiday.

Pince said - - Just wait until examination time arrives, then they'll be sorry, mark my words. But no one has been in for over an hour. Young Snape from Slytherin was here earlier but even he seems to have left.

I stayed totally still, I didn't even turn a page. I didn't want them to know I was still there.

McGonagall said - - He takes his schoolwork seriously, that boy. He's one of the best of his year in Transfiguration.

Pince said - - If only they could all be studious like him. He spends more time working in the library than any other student, even the N.E.W.T. candidates. He does research on his own, outside of assigned reading.

McGonagall laughed and said - - Sounds as if he should have been in Ravenclaw. The sorting hat must have made a mistake.

Then she sounded more serious and said - - I'm concerned about him, though, Irma. He's very bright, but he's so. . .I don't know, so suspicious and withdrawn. So hard to reach, and he doesn't seem to have many friends.

Pince said - - He talks to your Lily Evans sometimes. And to some of the Slytherin boys, Mulciber and Yaxley.

McGonagall said - - That's part of what worries me. The political situation being what it is, a disaffected boy like Snape could be ripe for recruitment by extremists. I'm wary of Yaxley and Malfoy; I think they support all that pureblood purity nonsense.

Pince said - - Isn't Snape a half-blood? They won't be interested in him.

McGonagall said - - Don't you believe it. They'll be happy to make use of his level of intelligence, especially if they can get him on their side. You know, convince him that the rest of the wizarding world has wronged him somehow and that he should be loyal to them. I imagine Mr Snape is capable of a great deal of loyalty; I've seen him talk to Lily, too, even when it's clear that his Slytherin compatriots don't want him to.

Pince said - - You're probably right.

McGonagall said - Houses can be wonderful influences in a child's life, but they can be bad influences, too. I just don't think Slytherin is good for Snape.

Then they talked about other things, and McG got some books and they turned down the lights and left. They never did see me.

4\. A strange thing happened when I was writing about McG and Pince's conversation. In each paragraph, as soon as I started putting down the words, the quill began to write on its own. It wrote the words just as they were said aloud.

It is better than I could have done by myself. I would not have remembered every single word.

5\. I believe it is the Prince book helping me.

6\. Thank you.

7\. I looked up "disaffected" and "compatriots." "Disaffected" means "rebellious, discontented, dissatisfied with authority." "Compatriots" means "from the same country" or "companion, colleague."

8\. I am not rebellious. But I am definitely dissatisfied with Gryffindors.* (Note - - *except Lily)

9\. Slytherin is not a bad influence on me. This is a lie. Slytherin has given me compatriots.

10\. I don't like it when people talk about me.

11\. Or watch me.

12\. But I am not sorry they know I am smart. Smarter than any Gryffinwank, that's for sure.

13\. I am the best Transfiguration student in my year.

 **1 April 1972**

1\. Tomorrow is Easter.

2\. Only five of us left in the Slytherin common room over the break. No one else from my year.

3\. I have been experimenting.

A. Potions: I brewed three phials of the new protection potion.

Results: Successful.

Evidence: I drank one phial and then went to the beehives near Hagrid's house and put my hand straight in. I did not get one sting.

B. Spells: The theory in the book is difficult.

Results: Unsuccessful. So far.

 **End of the Term**

1\. Tomorrow I leave to go home.

2\. I have packed everything except this book and my nightshirt. And my quill.

3\. I will sit with Lily on the train. I waited for her after breakfast today and she said -Yes, for a little while at least.

4\. I have not written much here in the last few weeks because exams and homework were ridiculous.

5\. I have continued to experiment with spells.

Results: promising.

6\. Professor Devlin gave me a note to say I could take _Plants and Potions_ home with me over the summer. (I will take _Spell Theory_ too, but no one will know.)

7\. Professor Devlin is not coming back next year. He has to go somewhere warm for his health.

This is not good news.

6\. Thoughts

A. It has been a good year overall.

B. I have learnt a lot. Examples:

\- -A lot about making potions. More than I can write here.

\- -Dark magic is only dark if you make it dark.

\- -You can use dark magic safely if you don't let it control you.

\- -The wizarding world is unfair to Slytherins, but things may change someday.

\- -If you have power, be careful with it.

\- -If you are careful and have a system and think things through, you can make changes in the potions recipes without blowing up any cauldrons (like moron Pettigrew) or creating fumes that cause everyone at your table to break out in warts (like moron Avery). And your potions will be better.

\- -Teachers watch you even when you don't know it. And they talk to other teachers about you.

C. Yaxley and Lucius and some of the other Slytherins have been nice to me. In my year, Mulciber is not so bad. Avery is an idiot.

D. I will pay back Pooper and Blackhead for everything someday. They'd better watch out, that's all.

E. Now I have said all I will say about this year.

Signed, Severus Snape, SLYTHERIN.


	5. Chapter 5: Headmaster, Part 1

**Part 2.1 - - Snape's First Year, Headmaster - - 1997-98**

 **\- - - / / / - - -**

 **31 August 1997**

The sitting room of the headmaster's quarters in Hogwarts was as plain as Severus Snape could make it.

The outer office, with its clutter of portraits and tables and instruments and parchments and cupboards and historical artefacts, he had left untouched - - that space was not his. He was "headmaster" as a temporary figurehead only, and he wanted as little to do with the whole business as possible.

This room, though. . .here he would live as he wanted to live and would please no one but himself.

He stood in the middle of the floor and looked around.

There was a fireplace with long, comfortable settee in front of it. A thick carpet in muted colours. Against one wall were several floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and facing the mullioned windows, a small desk and chair. No other chairs - - he did not plan to allow anyone to intrude on his privacy here, certainly not visitors who would sit and chat.

Nothing else. No wall hangings or pictures, no plants, no messy mementoes - - there was nothing he wanted to remember of the past.

Though Snape had taken over the headmaster's position only two days previously, the house elves had already moved and shelved all his books. He crossed to examine them, and their neat rows gave him the first moment of calm that he'd felt since. . .well, probably since Dumbledore's death. The elves had done a good job: all the titles were in order, all his careful organization retained.

He was just finishing aligning the spines with the edges of the shelves when a "pop" announced the entrance of Gibby, the head house elf of the headmaster's suite. He held a cardboard box in his arms.

"Gibby is sorry for intruding on the headmaster," he said. "But here is one last box, just odds and ends, and Gibby thought he would deliver it himself to check that everything is satisfactory with the move."

"Yes, everything is fine," Snape replied. "Thank you, Gibby. And thank the others." He was unused to interacting with elves - - he'd preferred to maintain his dungeon rooms himself - - but he'd seen enough of the Malfoys' mistreatment of theirs that he wanted to be as different as possible.

Gibby deposited the box on the desk. "Does the headmaster require anything else?" he asked, and vanished with a bow as soon as Snape shook his head.

Driven less by curiosity than by a desire to prolong his solitude for a few more minutes, Snape stepped to the box and opened it.

A few toiletries, two tea mugs, several quills (their nibs stained permanently with red ink), a roll of parchment, and a battered book.

 _Hogwarts: A History_

Slowly, Snape drew out the desk chair and sat down; he wasn't sure his legs would continue to support him. It was a shock, seeing this book again.

It had been years since he'd last looked at it, years since - - he could admit it now - - it had been the closest thing he'd had to a friend.

Almost gingerly, he reached out touch the cover, and it immediately turned into sleek black leather, the silver snake gleaming on the front corner.

He lifted the book from the box and opened it with no little trepidation, but the first leaf, the message page, remained blank. It was here that he'd read his mother's letter on his first night at Hogwarts, all those years ago. It was here that the magical remnants of the Prince family had brought him into their fold, guiding and helping him throughout his student career.

And it was here that they had disowned him.

He could still remember verbatim the last entry he had written, during his final term at Hogwarts.

 _ **19 February 1977**_

 _Tonight will be the beginning - - of my real life. I've spent the last seven years surrounded by idiots and delinquents, forced to watch while undeserving arsewipes like Black and Potter get all the breaks. But now finally I will be able to take my place among people who value the things I value, like magical strength and intelligence and reason and evidence and achievements that are_ _earned_ _._

 _As he promised, tonight Lucius will introduce me to Lord Voldemort at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort is by far the smartest man ever to attend Hogwarts - - smarter than Dumbledore - - and he has plans to put the wizarding world back on the right track, where merit and brains, not Gryffindor injustice and favouritism, will determine who gets ahead._

 _At last._

As Snape had written these lines back in his seventh year, an unfamiliar sensation had run through him, fierce and tingling. At the time, he'd thought perhaps it was what happiness felt like.

And then, just an hour before he'd been due to meet Lucius in Hogsmeade so that they could Apparate to the manor, the Prince book had suddenly Levitated itself off his bookshelf and floated over to hover in the air before him, open to the message page.

Angular writing had appeared, in a slashing hand Snape did not recognise.

 _Severus Tobias Prince Snape_ , it read, _if you are truly the intelligent man you style yourself to be, do not disgrace the noble name of Prince by aligning yourself with a charlatan. This 'Lord Voldemort' is no friend of the wizarding world, and certainly no friend of a penniless half-blood, Prince though he may partly be. You have brains, you say? Use them. Study what has been the ultimate fate of demagogues everywhere. That way your own destruction lies, and the dishonour of the family._

 _Remember Ozymandias - 'Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!'_

Severus had been seventeen, and stupid, and he'd responded with disdain and dismissal and had gone on to meet Lucius anyway, and the rest was pathetic history that would be risible if everything hadn't turned out to be such a fucking disaster.

When Snape had returned from that first meeting at the manor, heady with the notion of power (Voldemort had known just how to appeal to a desperate, deluded boy from Spinner's End), he'd sat down to write up the evening in his magic book.

But it had been blank. . .not just the special message page, but the whole book.

The entire damn book had been completely blank.

Everything Snape had written for seven years. Everything he'd said, thought, planned. Everything he'd been. Gone.

And the pages would no longer accept his ink. When he tried to write, the parchment remained stubbornly unmarked.

The Princes, like so many others, had abandoned him - - had more or less erased his very existence, and no wonder.

At the time, he told himself he didn't care, that the book was stupid, a childish, foolish thing, not worth the time of an up-and-coming follower of the new leader of the wizarding world.

But he'd kept it, all the same.

Now, he touched the silver snake. Whatever else it might be, the Prince family heirloom was a beautiful example of the bookbinder's art: the leather supple and gleaming, the spine tight, the quires so smoothly sewn that the pages lay flat when opened, the parchment thick and creamy. It must have had blotting charms worked in, for even at age eleven, still clumsy with a quill, he'd never left a single smear or blotch.

Almost of their own accord, Snape's fingers reached out to riffle through the heavy pages. He thought he could stand to see their blankness now, since blankness was really all he wanted these days. . .

. . .except that the pages were no longer blank. His childhood writings had returned.

 **2 September 1997**

The news today had not been good. Potter and his pals had apparently managed to infiltrate the Ministry, for what ends Snape couldn't imagine, but the Dark Lord was furious, and it probably would not be long until he turned his ire toward Hogwarts. His rage tended to be free-floating, spilling out from its initial target to encompass anything in his path.

For tonight, though, Snape was safe enough. He'd got through the excruciating ordeal of dinner in the Great Hall (where he'd instituted a policy of total silence; it had the advantages of a) making him seem harsh without having to resort to actual abuse, and b) sparing his ears and sensibilities), and now he had returned to what was rapidly becoming the only place he could breathe freely: his sitting room, with the Prince family book open before him.

He reread his first entry. . .written twenty-five years ago to this very day, when Lily had been his whole world, and Hogwarts had held nothing but promise.

He pitied the boy he'd been then, and couldn't help but despise him a little, too. So much wasted hope, so many wasted plans. Nowadays, there were times when he could barely remember Lily's face, and Hogwarts no longer held any promise but death.

Still, it was heartening to see that his younger self had certainly been smart enough. . .downright clever in his understanding of Transfiguration (as he frequently used to remind Minerva, back when bantering was a thing they could do), and he'd been damned good in most of the other subjects, too.

He hefted the book in his hands, catching just a whisper of the pleasure he'd felt at receiving it, remembering the excitement of figuring out how it worked, of realising that the Princes' magic would protect his thoughts from outsiders.

It was complicated, that magic. Layers upon twisted layers. For later, he'd learnt that just as the book protected his thoughts, it revealed them, too. . .when it chose.

He flipped through the pages, searching for the entry he'd written the day he'd made this discovery. It had been early in his schooling, he was fairly sure. . .

Ah, here it was. Second year.

 _ **14 October 1972**_

 _1\. Today the older students went to Hogsmeade._

 _2\. Second years are not allowed yet._

 _3\. Lily is unhappy about not going, but I don't care. Who wants to wander pointlessly around or spend money on weird stuff from a joke shop? The teachers just take it away when they find it, and then your money is wasted._

 _4\. Like Pooper. His parents came and signed him out of school last weekend and took him to lunch in Hogsmeade. Guardians are allowed to do that once a term if they have permission from the head of house. They bought their spoiled little poophead some stupid jokes from the joke shop, and yesterday in Transfiguration he sneaked up to McGonagall's desk where her wand was, and he tried to switch it for a joke one that would turn into a flobberworm or something._

 _But she spotted him and took away the fake wand and made him empty out his bag and his robe pockets and took his dung bombs and his fart noisemaker too. AND she took ten points from Gryffindor. AND she gave him a detention._

 _Serves him right, the stinking prat._

 _Plus, I know McG saw me grinning about it, but she just pretended like she didn't notice me._

 _If they weren't both treacherous Gryffindors, I'd think she hated Pooper like I do._

 _What a great day._

 _**5. But here is the_ _ **most important thing**_ _about today._

 _A very important thing._

 _While everyone was in Hogsmeade, I went outside to the lake by myself. It was not too cold and the sun was out. After a while Lily came and sat down next to me. I don't know where her git Gryffindor friends were. She didn't say and I didn't ask._

 _I had this book with me and was going to write in it about Pooper and the fake wand and other things._

 _Lily picked it up but I didn't think anything of it, I just thought she'd believe it was_ Hogwarts: A History _like everyone else._

 _But she didn't._

 _When she opened the book, it turned into itself and she saw my first page and she read it out loud - - "Don't read without the personal permission of Severus Snape, Slytherin."_

 _Then she looked at me with that little smile and said - - Do I have your personal permission, Mr Severus Snape, Slytherin?_

 _I didn't want her to, not even Lily, I didn't write the book for anyone else to read, but I didn't want to say "no" in case she got upset and left. I hardly ever get to talk to her alone any more._

 _So I just sat there, trying to think of what to say, but before I could think of anything, suddenly her eyes went a little funny, and when I looked at the book again, it had turned back into_ Hogwarts: A History _, and Lily was saying, "You read this a lot, don't you? I tried to, but I didn't get very far, it didn't seem very interesting."_

 _It was like she had never even seen the real book._

 _I didn't know what to think, what it meant._

 _So I just said something stupid like "I guess you didn't find the good parts" and she laughed and said - - "You'll have to show me someday" but not like she really ever expected me to._

 _Then she put the book down and we talked about other things for a while and then she left._

 _6\. I have been thinking about this all evening. Here are my conclusions._

 _A. The book let Lily see its real form because it knows I like Lily._

 _B. It must have thought I would not mind if she read it._

 _C. When it realised I would mind, it found some way to make her forget she saw it._

 _D. If I am right, this is very powerful magic for a book_.

Snape sat motionless, his mind still back on the bright lake shore all those years ago, with the sun glinting off the water and bringing out the fire in Lily's hair. He'd forgotten all about James Potter's fake wand humiliation, but now the memory came sharply back, and he nearly grinned again. His younger self had been right: that _had_ been a great day.

How simple some things had seemed to him then: Gryffindors basically bad and Slytherins basically good, his world divided into smart people (a few) and stupid people (most), trustworthy people (maybe two) and everyone else. His feelings about Lily had often caused him pain, but they had been uncomplicated in a way he almost missed now, however unrealistic and foolish he'd been.

In the end, of course, Lily had been just a person like any other, more vivacious perhaps, but just as much of a mixture of good and bad, strong and weak, thoughtful and self-absorbed, as anyone else. He'd tried to make her a goddess, but she was just a girl.

He shook his head and deliberately moved his thoughts the Prince book.

He believed his younger self had the right of it: somehow the book was able to gauge his feelings and adjust accordingly, revealing him to those he cared about and who - - presumably - - cared about him.

It would be a terrifying prospect if he weren't absolutely certain that there was no one populating that latter category at all.


	6. Chapter 6: Headmaster, Part 2

**Part 2.2 - - Snape's First Year, Headmaster - - 1997-98**

 **\- - - / / / - - -**

 **14 October 1997**

It was after midnight before Snape was able to return to his rooms. Those damned imbecile students and their ludicrous attempt to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. Couldn't they see that they were doing far more harm than good with their rash and self-absorbed "resistance"?

He'd had to walk a fine line when assigning their detentions, trying to seem brutal without actually being so, but it was a dicey prospect at best, too easily seen through. Not by the moronic Carrows, of course, but if word got back to the Dark Lord. . .

Whatever else Voldemort might be, he was not stupid. He would see that Snape was not acting like a Death Eater, that he was protecting the students. Snape could only hope that the man was so blinded by hubris and ego that he'd pay little attention to the day-to-day doings of the school.

Lucius would also see the truth, no doubt, but there was no reason he should even learn of the episode. In any case, ever since his return from Azkaban, Lucius seemed to have less stomach for the Dark Lord's cause. . .or at least, for his methods. He would probably stay silent.

Then again, he might not. He'd have to be watched. And Obliviated, if necessary.

Snape resisted the powerful temptation to soothe his nerves with a shot or two of firewhisky and instead turned to his other drug of choice: the Prince book. It took only one or two entries from the past before he was transported out of the hellacious present and sent back. . .not to a better time, but a different one. Where "Severus Snape" seemed like someone else, almost a character in a book, someone outside himself.

 _ **25 December 1975**_

 _Mum said I could come home this Christmas if I wanted to, but I didn't. What would have been the point? Da gets worse every year, and I don't know which is worse with Mum - - watching her fight with him or watching her be a heroic martyr about it all. We used to have good talks about potions and Slytherin, but it's not the same any more. She just wants to whinge about the high prices of everything or nag about how I need to be planning to get a good apprenticeship after Hogwarts._

 _I'm not interested in apprenticeships. There are going to be better things in store for me, but that's not something I'm going to talk about right now. Mum will see, though. She'll be pleased when she sees how highly I'm thought of by people who matter._

 _And Lucius invited me to Malfoy Manor for Boxing Day._

 _There are several Slytherins staying at school for Christmas this year. The common room has become like a kids' playground, everyone just hanging around and goofing off and wrestling, and the noise is horrendous. So I have been spending a lot of time in the library._

 _Christmas dinner in the Great Hall was. . .interesting. I ended up at a table with Professor McGonagall and the headmaster. I think it's all part of Dumbledore's grand plan for inter-house collegiality or some such rot. The only good part was that there was not a single Gryffindor student with us, just a couple of nervous Hufflepuff third-years, Avery and his equally gormless first-year brother, and a few Ravenclaws I barely know._

 _Dumbledore was all jolly and "Merry Christmas" and "let's pull crackers." He insisted that everybody wear their ridiculous hats, but I took mine off after a couple minutes, and he didn't say anything. McG Vanished hers, too, after a bit._

 _I had brought a book with me, in case it all got too boring for words, and she noticed it. I thought she would take points away for reading at table, but she just said, "Fascinating topic, Mr Snape. Are you interested in sociological questions?"_

 _The book was_ Class in Wizarding Britain _by Delphis Snodgrass, and it's dead useful. All about how unfair the system is to working people and non-purebloods. I'm going to show it to Lucius and ask him how it fits in with what he has been saying about how important it is to have purebloods in charge. This book says pureblood control is part of the unfair system, they are the ruling bourgeoisie._

 _"Mr Snape?"_

 _McG was still looking at me, waiting for me to tell her if I liked sociology. I didn't know what she was up to, but it couldn't have been anything good, so I just said, "Maybe."_

 _Dumbledore butted in and said, "Snodgrass. Classic text. Theories of. . .ah. . .Joseph Marx, no?"_

 _And here I'd thought he was smart. I said, "Karl Marx. He's a Muggle philosopher."_

 _Then McGonagall said, "But it's Marx modified by Gramsci, isn't it? At least, that's where Snodgrass starts out, if I'm remembering correctly. And then offers his own wizarding take on it all."_

 _Dumbledore laughed and said, "I should have known better than to try to talk books with bookworms. Professor McGonagall is as big a fan of reading as you are, Mr Snape. Wait, here's an idea. Maybe you two should start an inter-house book club. I'm serious . . ."_

 _Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and said "Don't be silly, Albus." Then she said to me, "But if you ever want to discuss the theories, Mr Snape, you'll find my door open."_

 _I admit I find some of the Snodgrass book hard to understand, but there's no way I'll ever go talk to_ her _about it._

 _A. She's not just a Gryffindor, she's the HEAD of Gryffindor._

 _B. Gryffindors are not to be trusted, not even Lily sometimes._

 _C. McG would probably just want to laugh about me with Potter and Black and their ilk._

 _D. It would be a trick of some kind._

 _I'm not falling for it._

Snape sat back and closed his eyes, letting himself linger at that long-ago Christmas table; he could almost to smell the ginger in the pudding.

But the Hogwarts fare had paled before the gourmet feast that had met him at Malfoy Manor on Boxing Day. He'd felt intimidated, out of his depth, so in a desperate bid to impress, he'd made a point of talking about his Snodgrass reading in Lucius's father's hearing.

Abraxas Malfoy had turned on all the charm for his son's inelegant friend, talking to him as to a peer, graciously explaining that although Snodgrass was correct about corrupt hegemonic cultural institutions, his error was in basing his analyses on Muggle philosophy. The Muggle world was different from the wizarding world.

"For Muggles," Abraxas had said, "it is indeed the ruling class that has become corrupt and greedy and that perpetuates inequality. But in the wizarding world, it is the Muggle-borns who are at fault. They have brought their unjust systems with them and have perverted the balance of our world. So it is purebloods who must put us back on course. We must take back our sovereignty."

He'd clapped fifteen-year-old Severus on the back and offered him a small firewhisky, man to man, and Snape, too naïve and foolish to see how he was being played, had nearly burst with pride.

The burn of that memory propelled him out of his chair to pace the sitting room. How could he have been so stupid? Would anything have been different if he'd taken up Minerva's invitation to discuss politics and philosophy with her in her office?

No. Probably not. He'd been such an aggrieved, arrogant berk.

He tried not to let himself touch the memory of the intellectual conversations he and Minerva eventually did have, once he'd returned to Hogwarts to teach and began to emerge from his fug of grief over Lily, and once Minerva began to move beyond her initial suspicion of him.

It hadn't been a quick or easy process, but over the years, they had become something like friends. True, their "conversations" had often been marked by barbs and sarcasm and even shouting, but that had been part of the. . .yes, the fun. Minerva was witty, and she was often the only person in the staff room who understood his own bone-dry humour, and. . .

Well. He'd said he wasn't going to think about it.

 **15 October 1997**

There was certainly nothing friendly about the Minerva McGonagall who stormed into Snape's office the following afternoon.

"Severus!" she began hotly, and he found himself suddenly furious. Hadn't they been over and over this?

In an instant, he rounded his desk to loom over her, standing so close that she was forced to take a step backward.

"You will address me as 'Headmaster'!" he gritted.

Minerva made a motion like batting away flies. "Bollocks to that!" she said, and as always, Snape was reminded of his early days of teaching, when, despite his Death Eater past, he'd found himself shocked by the salty language that so often fell from Professor McGonagall's prim lips when there were no students about.

"You're not acting much like a headmaster!" she raged. "You let those Carrows mount a reign of terror while you spend your time hounding Longbottom and Ginny Weasley and - -"

"Hounding them? _Hounding_ them?" Snape was livid. "For your information, _Professor_ , they broke into this office and attempted to steal a priceless artefact! Be glad I didn't turn them over to the Carrows for - - "

"And why didn't you?" She looked at him sharply, her head tilted sideways, and Snape was taken back to his first day of Transfiguration, when McGonagall had sized him up as a brand-new first-year. Then, as now, he felt as if she saw straight through him.

"Why didn't you?" she repeated. "As you say, they broke into your office. . .challenged your authority. You could have them cruciated in front of the entire school - - think of the repressive effect it would have on anyone considering rebellion - - but instead, you have scheduled them to go and work with Hagrid tonight."

She kept her eyes fixed on his face, and he defensively lifted his lip in sneer. She needn't think she was going to come in here and lecture him - -

But she hadn't finished. "Do you know what I think, Severus?" She dropped her voice to a whisper that none of the portraits could have heard. "I think you are not working for You-Know-Who at all. I've been watching you. Oh, you do a fine line in menacing bluster, but that's all it is. . .bluster. You're protecting the children as much as you can, like giving them detention with Hagrid. And you soften the Carrows' Cruciatus curses, I've seen you mutter the spells - - "

She broke off with a gasp, for Snape had stepped forward to grip her arms tightly. Fucking Merlin, but this was dangerous.

"If you have an ounce of intelligence in that reckless Gryffindor head of yours," he hissed, "you will never breathe another word of this insane and ludicrous idea to anyone. It's utter nonsense. Don't count on any mercy, I could kill you where you stand - - "

"But you don't," she said, forming the words almost soundlessly, and her unspoken implication - - that he was on her side - - was as clear as if she had shouted aloud. "You don't."

They stood motionless, nearly nose to nose. He knew his fingers were digging painfully into her flesh, but he found himself unable to let go.

"Let me help you," she whispered finally. "You don't have to do this alone, Severus, maybe you think it's noble, but it's actually cowardly - - "

He pushed her roughly away then. "You forget yourself, Professor," he said, as coldly as he could manage, and before she could steady herself and retaliate, he pointed his wand and said, " _Verbum celare maximus_."

Her eyes narrowed; she recognised the concealment hex. But he spelt it out for her regardless.

"Speak, or write, of this ridiculous idea to anyone," he said, "and you'll lose all power of communication for good. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind about your students' punishment."

He turned his back and didn't move until he heard the door open and the circular stone staircase rumble into action.

\- / - / -

Snape spent a sleepless night pacing his sitting room, the Prince book for once lying unopened on the desk.

Minerva knew. She knew that he was not really a Death Eater. Damn her, she'd been watching him. She'd watched him when he was a child, and she was watching him still, and he felt as stripped bare and flayed as he'd felt on that excruciating day of his worst youthful memory, hanging upside down in his pants in front of Lily and the jeering thugs that she'd chosen over him.

The _verbum_ hex would keep Minerva quiet, verbally, at least. If she tried to speak or write about her conviction that Snape was still working against Voldemort, she'd be seized with a paralysis that only he could release.

But who knew what other dangerous things she could do that didn't involve words? That was the Gryffindor way, to always have to _do_ something instead of biding one's time until action made sense.

Of course, Minerva was not stupid, and surely a few moments' reflection and her innate good judgement would tell her that the wisest course was simply to lie low and do nothing to jeopardise his precarious position. Surely.

Snape stopped before the window, staring unseeing out into the castle grounds. Obliviation. That was the only answer, the only truly safe course, and he knew it.

He would seek Minerva out and do it.

Tomorrow.

 **15 November 1997**

The middle of November, and the times were getting increasingly desperate: the Dark Lord was becoming more and more erratic as the weeks passed and as Potter remained on the loose. Voldemort was also pursuing some intense, mysterious quest of his own, a quest on which he continued, apparently, to fail. So he was frustrated on every side, meaning that it would take very little to tip him into uncontrolled madness. The consequences would be unimaginable.

Thus the anti-Voldemort forces could not afford the slightest misstep.

Yet Snape still had not done what he knew he must do - - Obliviate Minerva. She must not be allowed to pose even a tiny threat to Dumbledore's plan, however pathetic and hopeless that plan might be. It was all they had.

Yes, clearly Obliviation was a necessary path to safety, and yet somehow he could not bring himself to destroy the last positive thought that Minerva - - that anyone - - had of him. Why it should matter, he wasn't sure, because he had long since come to terms with being despised and feared and mistrusted by Order members and Death Eaters alike. But matter it did.

She had been fairly restrained since the day he had cast the _verbum celare_ , and so had the members of Dumbledore's Army (Snape could not repress a sneer as he thought of them, clueless dunderheads). He could only conclude that Minerva had somehow convinced them to go to ground. That they were still plotting, he had no doubt, but at least they had become quiet and unnoticeable as they did it.

Still, he would have to deal with Minerva.

Soon.


	7. Chapter 7: Headmaster, Part 3

**Part 2.3 - - Snape's First Year - Headmaster - - 1997-98**

\- - - / / / - - -

 **25 December 1997**

The single package appeared at the foot of his bed on Christmas morning. Wrapped in green tissue. No card to indicate the sender.

Not that it needed a card. Only one person would have given him a Christmas gift of an academic journal from the 1960s: _Magical Politics Quarterly_ , which opened automatically to an article called "Blood Hegemony and Resistance in the Grindelwald Era."

Of course, there was always the possibility that it wasn't a gift at all, but a warning.

 **6 April 1998**

Snape stared out of his sitting room window, trying vainly to compose his thoughts. Not even the Prince book had been able to calm him once he'd seen the hasty, encrypted message brought to him by Lucius's emergency owl just an hour ago.

"Potter captured by Snatchers last night; brought to Manor," it read. "Master summoned but by indescribable bad luck, Potter and friends managed to escape, dungeon prisoners too. Wormtail dead. Dark Lord's wrath terrible to behold, punishments severe but survivable. DL's whereabouts now unknown."

In the course of his life and reading, Snape had sometimes come across phrases such as "wrath terrible to behold." They'd always seemed vaguely ludicrous, overwrought: the sort of biblical excess he associated with the religious fanatics of his childhood (a group had once come to preach on the corner opposite his father's local, at least until the landlord and a couple of his beefier patrons had chased them off sharpish).

But then in his arrogance and stupidity, he'd made himself lackey to a power-mad psychopath, and soon the notion of "wrath terrible to behold" was no longer a melodramatic cliché. It was simply a realistic description.

This setback with Potter was bound to destabilize things even further; the end could not be far off now. He should - -

Without warning, his dark mark flared hotly, the burn stronger than any he'd felt before. Snape staggered, catching himself on the desk, knocking his Prince book to the floor as a vivid image of the castle gates flooded his mind.

"Severussss. . ." came the whisper from everywhere and nowhere. "Meet me here at once."

Snape wheeled, heading toward the circular stone staircase as quickly as he could. Well, at least the question of Voldemort's whereabouts was settled for now. And it would be suicide to keep him waiting.

\- - - / / / - - -

Twenty minutes later, Snape was back in the headmaster's office, standing before Dumbledore's portrait.

"Albus," he said, and the painted old man "woke" at once. "The Dark Lord is in the grounds. He did not say what he wants."

Dumbledore nodded, as usual not seeming the least surprised. "I expected this sooner or later," he said. "He will open the tomb, take my wand. Let him. Do not attempt to interfere."

Snape snorted. As if he would even consider it - - though he had no doubt that Albus would order him to make the attempt if he thought it necessary.

"The Dark Lord will meet me here in the office later," Snape added. He did not bother asking why Voldemort wanted Dumbledore's wand; if Dumbledore had wanted him to know, he would have explained.

"Ah," Albus said, closing his eyes. "Then I will be sure to be 'asleep.'"

Snape settled in to wait, but it seemed a very short time before inky smoke began to seep around the frames of the office windows, and Voldemort took form in the middle of the room.

"So, Severussss," the Dark Lord said. "You have heard, no doubt, of the appalling failure of your compatriots at Malfoy Manor yesterday?"

As wary as he was, Snape couldn't help but remember an old entry he'd read recently in his Prince book, where, as far back as his first year, Minerva had voiced her mistrust of his "Slytherin compatriots." _Plus ça change. . ._

"Yes, I have heard, my lord," he replied. There was no point in denying it.

"They had Potter in their power, and they let him go." Voldemort narrowed his already-slitted eyes. "You would not have let him go, Severus."

Ah, here lay a trap. Best be as neutral as possible.

"I hope not, my lord."

"And yet," went on Voldemort, his soft voice taking on just the hint of an edge, "since the day last summer when we attacked Potter in Little Whinging, you yourself have done nothing to assist in his capture."

Snape knew better than to appear to offer excuses or justifications. Better to focus on practicalities. "There are plans in place," he began.

"Plans!" Voldemort shrieked, abandoning all pretense of control. Several portraits opened their eyes in shock, but Dumbledore "slept" on. "I have had enough of 'plans'! You have plans, Lucius has plans, Yaxley has plans, Bellatrix has plans. . .and nothing comes of them but the continued liberty of Potter! He was your student, you know him, you know how he thinks! Why have you not found him? You have all the many powers of Hogwarts castle at your disposal, and yet you do nothing. Nothing!"

The first Cruciatus curse did not exactly take Snape unawares, but he had long since learnt that there was little one could do prepare oneself.

After the second curse, he was no longer thinking in complete sentences.

After the third, he was no longer thinking at all.

\- - - / / / - - -

Snape came to himself on what seemed to be a soft cushion with some sort back to it. A sofa, perhaps? There were quiet sounds of movement around him.

"How did you know he was ill?" asked a voice. Poppy Pomfrey, he thought.

"Gibby fetched me. The headmaster's elf. I expect Albus sent him." Minerva.

Well, well.

"Why you?" Poppy was saying. "Here, measure twenty-five millilitres of this solution while I chop the roots. And then pour it into the other potion, please. It has to be freshly combined to be effective."

Minerva's voice was wry. "Why me? Just another of the many entertaining duties of the deputy headmistress. 'Assist the headmaster after the Cruciatus curse as necessary.'"

Poppy huffed half a laugh. "Let me get this potion down his throat while it's still smoking," she said, "though seriously, part of me hopes he chokes."

"Ah, Poppy, remember your healer's oath. Besides, better the devil we know."

A vile concoction was forced past his lips, and Snape at once felt somewhat better. He kept his eyes closed, though; Dumbledore was not the only one who could find it useful to feign sleep.

"But who cruciated him?" Poppy asked. "Not that many people wouldn't be glad to. . .but who at the school would risk it, even if they were willing to use an Unforgivable?"

"I expect we'll find out - - if Severus chooses to tell us, that is. Or else we won't."

"There," said Poppy, and Snape felt the tingle of a charm pass over him. "He should be all right now; we've headed off any permanent neurological damage."

There were the sounds of her packing up her medical kit. "Best we leave him here rather than move him to the hospital wing. The elves can let us know if anything goes wrong."

"Yes," said Minerva. "Thank you, Poppy. I'll see you at breakfast."

Footsteps, then the door closing.

And then a hand on his shoulder.

"Severus." Minerva shook him gently, then harder. "Severus?"

She sighed in exasperation, such a quintessential, familiar Minerva sound that Snape could almost imagine they were back in the staff room, arguing about Quidditch.

"You're not fooling me, Severus Snape," she said, and then raised her voice to address the room at large. "No more are you, Albus. Nor any of you portraits. Sleeping, my arse."

Then her heels clicked briskly away, and she was gone.

 **1 May 1998**

Albus's portrait hailed Snape the moment he stepped into the office.

"Severus. Portraits from the Ministry have brought news: Harry and his friends have raided Gringott's; they are out in the open now. I think we know what this means."

"Yes," Snape said simply.

It meant that the final battle was probably only hours away. And Snape had work to do.

\- - - / / / - - -

Darkness was falling before he had the opportunity to take up the Princes' book for what would probably be the last time.

Throughout the whole of this hellish year, he had resisted the temptation to confide in this book the way he had done as a child, spelling out his feelings and his fears. There was too much at stake, too much to lose, and in any case, he knew too much of the world, now, to be willing to trust even a "protective" sentient artefact.

Yet now, with his death very likely in sight, he risked loss of a different kind, and he finally made up his mind: he would take a chance on forestalling it.

The real ending, after the final battle, would be up to others, not to him. And up to the book.

But at least he could set the wheels in motion.

Taking up a quill, Snape opened to the magical message page and began to write.

\- - - / / / - - -

And now, dear readers, you are the "others" that Snape imagines above.

You must decide how his gamble ends.

You get to choose your own ending: the "bitter" or the "sweet"

(or both, if you prefer).

Coming soon.


	8. Chapter 8: Ending 1: Bitter

**Ending One: Bitter**

\- - - / / / - - -

 **23 December 1998**

Not until nearly Christmas does Minerva find the time to deal with Severus Snape's possessions. They've been sitting in the headmaster's private suite since Severus's death. Otherwise, the rooms are unoccupied; she has been in no hurry to take up residence.

Even if she'd been able to bring herself to move in, there simply hasn't been time to do it. The staff - - elves included - - have been spending every waking moment since May repairing the castle, dealing with the emotional and physical fallout of the war, and meeting the needs of the "eighth-years": those students who had not been able to finish their education during the war year.

In all these months, Minerva has resolutely refused to allow herself to think about Severus. Of course she is glad to know that her suspicions were correct, and he had not, after all, supported the Dark Lord. Glad for his sake, and for her own: she'd hate to think she is _that_ bad a judge of character.

But beyond that, the memories of him are too painful, and so she throws herself wholeheartedly into rebuilding. There is so much to do that she has no time to think of anything else, and when she does manage to snatch a few hours' sleep, she's dead to the world. Not a single nightmare yet.

The Minister of Magic came to call on her towards the middle of December with news of Severus's will. They have never found his body, but the Wizengamot had decided to declare Snape officially deceased, based on Harry Potter's evidence - - no one is about to question Potter's word on anything.

"The Wizengamot feels it's best if we settle things as soon as possible," Kingsley told her, "so that we can all move on. I think it's a wise decision."

"Yes," replied Minerva, though she doubted that any legal pronouncement would bring real closure.

Still, Kingsley is right. They need to mover forward as best they can.

It's after the staff Christmas party - - Filius insisted on holding it, and Minerva admits now that it was a good idea - - that she seeks out Irma Pince.

"Severus has left all his possessions to Hogwarts," she tells Irma as they sip the last of their mulled wine. "He had precious little, really, except for the books. Would you be willing to look through them? Decide what the library can use, and arrange to sell or donate the rest?"

"I'd be happy to," says Irma. "But Minerva, surely there are some you'd like? For the headmistress's use, I mean? You and Severus were friends once, and you both love books so much. I'm sure he'd like you to have something to remember him by."

Minerva shakes her head. "If there's anything you think the headmistress should read, professionally speaking, you can let me know. Otherwise. . .no. I just. . .no."

Irma nods understandingly. "Fine, then. I'll dig into them on Boxing Day and give you a report."

 **27 December 1998**

Irma knocks on Minerva's door in the early evening, but declines an invitation to come in for a drink.

"Some other time, if we could. Argus and I are having dinner in Hogsmeade tonight," she says. "I just wanted to give you a quick summary of Severus's books. He really had a fine collection, I must say. I'm taking at least half of them for the Hogwarts library - - including the school's own copy of _Spell Theory_ that has been missing forever. I wonder where he found that?"

"No telling," says Minerva.

"A lot of the others will be useful in the common rooms," Irma continues. "I like to keep some basic reference texts there, you know, so the children don't always have to come and chatter in the library. And I'm sure Flourish and Blotts will give us a good price for the rest; they're always looking for second-hand stock.

"Everything is in really good shape, but of course, I'd expect that from a book lover like Snape. He did have a few battered titles, though - - mostly old schoolbooks, probably from his own Hogwarts days. _Standard Book of Spells, Magical Draughts and Potions, Hogwarts: A History_ \- - that sort of thing. They're quite tattered. You know even careful children can be hard on their books."

Minerva nods. "They certainly can. And I doubt that Severus's family could have afforded new textbooks in the first place. They were surely used when he got them."

"Well," says Irma, "most are beyond repair, so I'll just toss them. But they're the only ones we can't use. Otherwise, the collection was really a lovely bequest."

"Thank you so much, Irma," Minerva says. "Have a good time with Argus."

She shuts the door slowly. That's that, then. The last page closed, as it were, on Severus Snape's life. At least his books will continue to be read. He would have liked that.

She pours herself a small glass of firewhisky and sips. Once the books have been taken away, she decides, it will be time to talk to the house elves about moving her things into the head's personal quarters.

She must put the war and its dead behind her.

\- - - / / / - - -

* * Go to Chapter 9 for the "Sweet" Ending * *


	9. Chapter 9: Ending 2: Sweet

**Ending 2: Sweet**

\- - - / / / - - -

 **25 December 1998**

Not until Christmas Day can Minerva bring herself to deal with Severus's things. She has been too busy with the endless chores of rebuilding - - the castle, the wizarding world, herself - even to think about moving into the headmaster's (no, she tells herself sternly, the _headmistress's_ ) suite.

But procrastination doesn't come naturally to Minerva, so once Christmas dinner in the Great Hall is over, she decides that she has shirked her duty long enough, and she wands open the door to the head's sitting room.

"Good girl," says Albus's portrait, and Minerva frowns at him. _Girl_ , indeed. He twinkles.

The elves have kept the place scrupulously tidy, but Minerva's heart breaks a little when she sees what an austere life Severus lived here. . .the room so spare, so impersonal.

Since the war ended, she has barely let herself think Severus. She is glad that he knew she had realised he was not a Death Eater; she is sorry that on the night of the battle, she let her anger with him spill over into that bitterly-regretted cry of "coward!" She's pleased that Potter publicly revealed he truth about Severus's real allegiance; she's so very sorry that he had to die nearly alone in fear and pain. She wishes devoutly that she could talk with him just one more time, even as a portrait, so that they could clear the air between them now that secrecy is no longer needed.

Yet after sorting out these feelings, she put them aside; no good was to be gained by dwelling.

Now the emotions flood back to her as she gazes at this nearly-bare room, where the only traces of Severus the man can be found in his choices of books.

But then she takes a closer look, at the breath-taking vista he would have seen as he sat at his desk. At the deep, plump cushions of the sofa, so close to the warmth of the fire. At the way he would have been almost embraced by the circle of his bookshelves. At the heady scent of old books themselves. And she decides that perhaps Severus's last months, hellish though they must have been, at least offered him some comfort.

She steps over to the shelves, reacquainting herself with his marvelous collection, noting with pleasure some of the titles he's added since she had last visited him in his Slytherin dungeon. _A Cultural History of Wizarding Popular Novels_ \- - she can't wait to dip into that one. And she is touched to see that her last (anonymous) Christmas gift, _Magical Politics Quarterly_ , has taken its place center-shelf in the carefully-organized political section, right next to. . .

Right next to a tattered copy of _Hogwarts: A History_? Severus must have been distracted indeed to make such a grievous shelving error. She pulls the book down, intent on rectifying this mistake at once, when suddenly she is not holding _Hogwarts: A History_ at all.

She is holding an exquisite old leather-bound tome, its black cover smoothly pristine, a solid silver snake gracing the corner. It's a priceless artefact; she can smell its potent perfume of old paper and old magic. It must have cost Severus at least half a term's salary, but she can certainly understand the allure.

Minerva sinks onto the sofa and runs her fingers lightly over the beautiful leather; one must savour a book experience like this one. Her breath catches a little as she finally opens the cover. What rare title will greet her? She looks down and reads,

This book is the property of

Severus Tobias Prince Snape.

A SLYTHERIN.

Do not read without the personal permission of

SEVERUS SNAPE, Slytherin.

Keep out. This means YOU.

But before she can make sense of this amazing inscription, the page turns, and Severus's familiar angular hand begins to snake across the parchment.

 _Dear Minerva,_ it reads,

 _For it must be you who is reading this; I don't think there's anyone else alive for whom this book would open. You have Severus Snape's "personal permission" to read it, after all._

 _I write these words just moments before what I'm sure will be the final battle of the war. I don't expect to survive._

 _But because I am foolish and weak, I have nonetheless devised a pitiful plan of escape; it has little chance of success, but I have drawn it up regardless._

 _I have no way of knowing what you will find - - and I have no right to think you will even want to find anything - but if by miniscule chance I live, and if by even more miniscule chance you'd care to see me, come to Number 12, Victory Gardens, Warrington, Hants._

Minerva stands up at once (decisiveness being a quality on which she prides herself) and despatches her patronus with a message for her deputy head: "Filius, I must leave the school in your hands for tonight. I have an errand to run, but it might not take long."

Summoning her cloak from the outer office, she seizes the magic book and uses her headmistress's prerogative to turn it into a portkey that will take her directly to Severus's address. Calling "Later, Albus," to whatever question he is shouting to her from the other room, she touches the book and within seconds, still clutching it, she arrives at Victory Gardens, Warrington, Hampshire.

There's no garden to be seen - - just a rather sad-looking terrace of tiny old stone houses, one or two of them boarded up. But it's out of the way, and quiet, and soon she spots the rather crooked number 12 that marks the door at the far end.

Never one to dither, Minerva steps forward and raps sharply.

Nothing happens for a full minute. . .and then slowly, the door swings back to reveal a gaunt, lank-haired man in a baggy Muggle jumper and trousers.

He stares at her, and then, just briefly, Severus Snape is unable to stop himself from smiling.

The expression lasts for only a second, replaced almost at once by his familiar scowl.

"Took you long enough," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "Well, don't just stand there like a daft Gryffindor. Come in."

Smiling in her turn, Minerva steps over the threshold and into his embrace.

\- - - / / / - - -

* * Go to Chapter 8 for the "Bitter" ending * *


End file.
